


Tick Check

by ChrissiHR



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies), Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: Clint Barton is romo af, Crack, Darcy Is a Good Bro, Darcy Lewis Bingo, Darcy Lewis Bingo 2020, Enthusiastic Consentacles, F/M, Halloween, Halloween crack, Happy Ending, Humor, M/M, Old Timey Sarge slidin up in there to put his thing down, One-shot Wednesday, Werewolf Bites, WinterHawk Bingo, Winterhawk Bingo 2020, buying each other flowers, clint loves dogs, darcy ships it, dlbingo, monsterfucker!Clint, nobody tell Pepper, one fic—two ships, pheromone shenanigans (also enthusiastic), teeny bit of explicit sexytimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:41:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27139525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChrissiHR/pseuds/ChrissiHR
Summary: “The serum seems to be sorting out Rogers. He still has remainders in his bloodstream of the biological agent we’ve traced back to the flowers from Nowhere. Thor ID’d them. They’re the, uh, vines currently blowing Barton’s mind,” Tony continued, blithely ignoring the sounds coming from the Barton-Barnes end of the row of containment. He brought up charts and graphs on holoscreens that Darcy had no hope of ever seeing without her glasses. (Truthfully, she was grateful not to have her glasses, she decided, when she heard Barton start choking his chicken again.) “They’re some kind of spring festival flower, packed with wicked pheromones that force you to fuck until you die or to possibly fuck to live. We’re not sure yet. Allspeak isn’t infallible, so we’re running some additional scans before we run the risk of letting Barton fuck it out with the Growl Next Door.” He pointed to Bucky’s containment unit, where Bucky did, in fact, seem to be growling. And…suddenly looked a lot furrier than she remembered. “Barton got dosed with the Nowhere specimen, because Barnes is a romantical son of a bitch and Barton just had to stick his face in the want-sum-fuck space flowers because he has exactly zero self-preservation instincts.”
Relationships: Darcy Lewis/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Comments: 20
Kudos: 91





	Tick Check

**Author's Note:**

> WinterHawk Bingo square filled: N4 getting each other flowers  
> Darcy Lewis Bingo square filled: A1 love bites  
> Promptober prompts: nightshade | pollen | pheromone
> 
> *waves* Hi, guys! It’s my birthday! So I wrote you this fun thing! *throws confetti*
> 
> Pre-read by the lovely Aenaria, but edited by me since, so all remaining errors and goofs are entirely on me. 

“What are we doing?” Jane whispered to Pepper and Darcy, tiptoeing out onto Stark’s balcony with the bottles of hard cider Darcy texted her to bring upstairs. 

“We’re spying on the spies, Janie, keep up.” Darcy popped the tops on the drinks with the multitool Natasha gave her last Christmas as Jane bounced on her toes to peer over the vines growing thick along the rail, down onto the quinjetway two floors down.

About halfway out to the landing pad, hidden in the shadows to one side of the hangar, Hawkeye fidgeted in his best, least distressed jeans and newest Converse. In his hand, he clutched a bouquet of unusual looking flowers, wrapped in florist cellophane. 

“ _Flowers?_ Is he proposing?” Jane gaped. 

“He’s been sending me texts all week full of questions about how to be more romantic and spontaneous.” Pepper’s eyes sparkled and she pressed her lips together in that pleased way of hers. “I think it’s sweet.”

“It’s frickin adorable,” Darcy amended, chugging half of her cider while it was still cold. “He Starktimed me from the flower district this morning to show me these special flowers he found. Dogwood blossoms in a golden cream shade that reminded him of Lucky, like it was fate or something.” She sighed, feeling like a proud older sister when she added, “He wanted to surprise Bucky, so when he found this new flower stall in the fall marketplace with dog flowers or whatever, he took it as a sign.”

“Oh, that _is_ sweet,” Jane cooed, then startled in surprise when Natasha and Maria appeared out of thin air beside her with more cider. “Frickin’ spies,” she muttered. 

“What our Hawk doesn’t know yet is that Yasha has been on the hunt for a surprise, too, while he’s been out on the Benatar with the Guardians and Steve for a month.” She pressed the mouth of her bottle to her lips and blew, idly making a bird call like it was a hobby she did every Saturday. “While they were docked at Nowhere two nights ago, Yasha also picked up a bouquet of flowers. It’s all very … sentimental.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Maria hissed when the Benatar’s jets powered down as they broke through the atmosphere to slow their descent. “Love is for children, we got it.”

“And hot sniper boyfriends,” Darcy muttered. She smiled, though, when Clint straightened up suddenly, tidying his shirt and fixing his hair in his reflection in Tony’s excessive everywhere-chrome. Clint even cupped a hand to huff into his palm and check his breath. 

“Ooh, somebody’s got welcome home kisses on the brain.” Jane cooed again.

“You practically sucked Thor’s face off when he turned up in London. Your lips were chapped for a week after. Don’t even, Foster.” Darcy set her second nearly empty bottle on the rail’s drink ledge, crossed her arms, and settled her chin on her hands to wait. “Totes romo. Get it, Barton,” she whispered when the Benatar reengaged its landing thrusters with a blast of hot air and touched down. 

Seconds later, the jetway dropped and Barnes appeared, haloed by the soft pink and blue lights of the Benatar’s interior. 

“Hey.” His voice was barely audible over the wind. In his hand, he clutched a slightly battered bouquet wrapped in whatever space cellophane they used on Knowhere. 

“Hey.” Clint did that bro-dude nod-slash-acknowledgement thing, then lifted his own romantic offering. “Great minds, I guess.”

“Yeah.”

“Just kiss already!” Someone yelled and Darcy jumped, knocking her cider bottle off the edge. 

Oh. It was Darcy. 

_Darcy_ yelled. 

“Beautiful night!” She called out when her bottle shattered and Barton and Barnes whipped around to glare at her as her friends ducked behind the bushes, shushing each other, and hid like guilty teenagers. “Great night for a romantic walk!” she suggested. Loudly. 

“Doll.” Steve appeared behind Bucky with a fond, exasperated smile for his girl, two stories up with her friends. 

“Uh, hey, babe.” She grinned winningly. “We were just—”

“Spying on the spies?” Clint turned a smug grin up at her. 

“I thought he was deaf,” Jane hissed from the bushes. 

“Providing moral support for your grand, romantic gesture, Barton!” She corrected boldly, gesturing to encompass the whole of the quinjetway and the ship. 

“Got you these,” Barton said, turning back to Barnes. “They’re dogwood blossoms. Same color as Lucky. Thought it was cool. Dogs, you know?” He shrugged, pushing the flowers at Barnes when his feet finally touched the deck. 

“Tragic,” Natasha muttered, also from the bushes. 

“Oh, yeah, same.” Barnes shoved his bouquet at Barton, then stepped in to peck him briefly on the lips. 

“Is that it?” Pepper murmured in disgust. “What the hell. I could be watching telenovelas and double-fisting dirty martinis right now. _Inside_.”

On the deck below, Steve paused beneath the balcony, shaking his head. 

“Sorry I didn’t bring you flowers, babe,” Darcy apologized to her boyfriend. “But there’s beer and more cider if you wanna come up and super-secret-snoop with us on the most tragic romantic gesture in the history of tragic romance,” she offered. 

“Or I could go take a shower and you could join me?” he countered. 

“All of us?” Maria perked up. 

Jane slapped a hand over her mouth to trap a giggle. 

Natasha, presumably, hung her head somewhere over in her bush, quietly and Russianly disgusted with all of them. 

“You get five minutes of all the hot water to yourself, then I’ll be down to wash your back and check for space ticks,” Darcy ordered her man. 

“Mm, space tick inspection. You sure know how to welcome a fella home from a month in space, sweetheart.” He hummed in mock delight. He blew her a kiss and disappeared beneath the balcony as the bushes around her rustled and disgorged their occupants back indoors for the night. 

“Night, Darce,” Jane murmured as she plucked a leaf out of her hair and the door closed behind her, but Darcy barely noticed because Barton and Barnes had passed into the shadows under the balcony, too, and she just caught a quick glimpse of Barnes, grabbing and hoisting the archer up into his arms, knees over hips, scuffed Converse locked over Barnes’ lower back. Their lips came together and the last thing Darcy heard before heading inside was, “Welcome home, babe. Missed you.”

And:

“Missed you more.”

Oh, Steve was getting the space tick check of his centenarian lifetime tonight, she thought as the ambient sexual tension raced straight to her neglected Netherlands. 

* * *

Darcy was, therefore, surprised and not a little peeved when Friday paged her to come down to the special ‘we fucked up bad and need to hide it from Pepper’ labs in the sub-basement well after noon the next day when she finally rolled out of Steve’s bed. His side of the bed was cool to the touch, but that was no great surprise. He often got up early to go out for a run with Bucky, even when they were still hot off a mission. She didn’t even get a chance to drink the coffee Steve left for her before Friday hustled her out the side door of the bedroom, through Steve’s attached office, back to the freight elevator. 

“The hell, Friday? Is there a GOP senator coming that you need to sweep me under Steve’s rug or what?” she griped, struggling to pull Big & Blond’s hoodie on as the AI literally chased her with three cleaning bots into the grimy lift.

“There’s a situation, Miss Lewis,” was all the response she got.

...until she arrived in the sub-basement, where Tony stood on the right side of the Hulk-proof glass containment chambers that lined one wall of the bad labs.

“What did you do?” she growled, realizing a minute too late that Friday hadn’t even let her pull on decent pants before she got run off this morning. She was still wearing the tactical nightgown Steve insisted she put on before bed. (Tactical because she had to wear it to bed in case of a tower breach, not because it was, like, knife-proof or anything. It was covered in tiny, smiling chibi witches and sparkly bats. Steve enjoyed a little sparkle with his tick checks sometimes.)

But instead of snapping at her with a pithy retort like she expected, Tony turned a very concerned Dr. Stark face on her, squinting and scrutinizing her over his biohazard mask, but from a distance. “Step into the box, Lewis,” he said, gesturing to one of the bad lab containment rooms.

“What?! No! I’m fine!” she insisted as Dum-E suddenly rolled her way, flexing his claw menacingly. “Tony!” she yelped when the door snapped shut, catching the bottom hem of her nightgown.

“Sit tight, Lewis, just gonna run some scans on the four of you now you're all in one place.” Tony returned to the control center in the middle of the lab to check the results as the room she was in flashed with blinding ultraviolet lights.

“My nightgown is stuck in the door! What’s going on! Let me out!” She banged on the door as Jane and Bruce appeared from across the hall in their own masks, followed by Maria and Natasha. Also masked. 

Fuckdoodles. 

Bad Lab lockdown plus biohazard masks could not mean anything good. 

“The rest of the team?” Tony checked with Nat.

“All clear and locked down safely offsite. All your Stark folks, too. Pepper’s going to catch on fast if she leaves her office or tries to call anyone in the building besides her team, though.”

“Mm, can’t be helped.”

“Tony?” Darcy sat on the floor and tried to wiggle her hem free from the airlock.

“There’s a stack of scrubs and underthings on the cot, doll.” 

She jumped at the sound of Steve’s voice.

It came from the containment cell next door.

“Oh no.” She whimpered.

“Your Scientists Three are working on it. I’d hoped you were okay.” Steve pressed his head to the glass between their cells.

“Baby, what’s going on?”

“Tony’s got a specialist coming in.” He licked his lips and Darcy swore she could see his pupils rapidly dilate and his eyes flash gold.

“Okay…”

“We might’a brought home a biological agent of some kind.”

“Then… Why are we the only ones—”

“We’re not.” Steve stepped aside and pushed back the hospital drapes on the long track running around the room used for privacy so Darcy could look through his cell. On the far side of his, Barnes squatted on top of a medical cabinet in track pants that had seen better days and no shirt, looking … feral. He panted hard, thrashing and snarling at … nothing. On the far side of his cell, she could see Barton in the last containment unit on the end. It was far, and Darcy left her glasses upstairs, but she was pretty sure Clint was surrounded by writhing vines, buck-fucking-naked, and jerking off hard enough to give himself road rash.

“The fuck?” she turned back to the door of her cell and growled at Tony, “WHAT DID YOU DO?”

“First of all, I resent that, young lady.” Tony set down his Starkpad. “Second, we’ve isolated two completely different compounds, so someone potentially villainy who is definitely not me did something at least two different ways.” (In the distance, Darcy distinctly heard Barton shout, “Fuck, _YES!!!_ ” in relief. Gross.) “At first, we chalked it up to something the serumed boys caught on Nowhere, but the Guardians are all fine, if a little, uh, hornier? Than usual? Then Barton turned up with totally different symptoms, like he crossed paths with another, separate biological agent from the first.”

“Yeah? And?”

“The flowers.” Tony’s lips twisted. 

“Bucky’s space flowers?”

“And Barton’s dog flowers.”

Natasha leaned in to borrow Tony’s mic, “We already went down to the flower district. The stall where he bought the bouquet is gone. The market owner has no record of that stall even being let out for the week. The blossoms are not from any known strand of dogwood tree on Earth. It’s all very monkey paw.”

“The good news is that the serum seems to be sorting out Rogers, though he still has remainders in his bloodstream of the biological agent we’ve traced back to the flowers from Nowhere. Thor also visually ID’d them. They’re the, uh, vines currently blowing Barton’s mind,” Tony continued, blithely ignoring the sounds coming from the Barton-Barnes end of the row of containment cells. He brought up charts and graphs on holoscreens that Darcy had no hope of ever seeing without her glasses. (Truthfully, she was grateful not to have her glasses, she decided, when she heard Barton start choking his chicken again.) “They’re some kind of spring festival flower, packed with wicked pheromones that force you to fuck until you die or to possibly fuck to live. We’re not sure yet. Allspeak isn’t infallible, so we’re running some additional scans before we run the risk of letting Barton fuck it out with the Growl Next Door.” He pointed to Bucky’s containment unit, where Bucky did, in fact, seem to be growling. And … suddenly looked a lot furrier than she remembered. “Barton got dosed with the Nowhere specimen, presumably because Barnes is a romantical son of a bitch and Barton just had to stick his face in the want-sum-fuck space flowers because he has exactly zero self-preservation instincts.”

“What’s happening to Bucky?” Darcy asked as the sergeant’s body seemed to lengthen and his bones cracked. When his dick grew six inches and a fur coat, Darcy was ready to Nope right the fuck out of the bad labs. She pressed her face to the glass. “Tony, tell me that’s not gonna happen to me. I don’t have the serum!”

Through the windows of Steve’s cell, Barnes started growling. 

“Probably not the werewolf dick part!” Tony shouted to be heard over the growling, “But I wouldn’t rule out needing a back wax and some flea and tick meds yet!”

Barnes stared Darcy directly in the eye and pressed his head back against the wall Barton was propped up against, corralling his own tadpoles at the top of his lungs on the other side. Then Barnes pushed down his track pants for a quick and dirty round of extra-hairy knuckle shuffle of his own.

Did she mention the giant, furry weredick?

Because that could not be overstated right now. 

“Tony!” Darcy squealed, finally, _thoroughly_ freaked the fuck out as Bucky jerked it, licking his lips and baring his canines at her. 

“Doll, it’s gonna be okay,” Steve tried to reassure her. “He can’t break through the glass. You’re safe. You can reach to close the front drapes and I’ll close mine to give you some, uh, privacy.” (Was brain bleach really too much to ask?) “Go ahead and wiggle out of your nightgown so you can put on those scrubs and get comfortable. We’re gonna be here a while, but it’s just precautionary. It’ll burn outta my system in no time. Tony needs to check you’re not infected, too. That’s all,” Steve crooned, always the voice of sanity and reason.

“Why didn’t he just start with that part?” she demanded, yanking shut the drapes. “We are having so many words when we get out of here, mister. ALL THE WORDS.” She squirmed out of her nightgown and Steve’s hoodie, and snatched up the provided IronMan underoos and red scrubs on her way to the attached bathroom, naked.

“Lewis,” Tony scared the shit out of her when his voice switched to barking through the loudspeakers. She hurried to the bathroom to pull the scrubs on faster. “Those love bites on your neck? Did any of them break the skin? There’s a mirror and a bright light in the bathroom. And one of the bots is delivering a pair of glasses in your prescription to the vanity in there so you can see.”

“I…” Darcy hesitated, unsure whether she wanted to look or not. 

“They’re formulating an antidote from the antibodies my version of the serum is cranking out from coming in contact with the pollen end of the posies Buck brought home last night,” Steve said through the intercom. “Once that clears my system in the next hour or so, they’re gonna infect me with whatever Bucky got to make an antidote for him, too. We just need to know how many doses to make, sweetheart, in case you got the residuals from Buck bringin’ his bouquet up to our apartment to stick it in water before we went out for a run this morning. There’s a chance you came in contact with both biological agents because’a me.” He went silent for a moment. “I love you,” came the quiet reminder next through the intercom. “I’m sorry about all this.”

“Fuck! _I’m_ not!” Barton cried out at the end of the row. The vines had progressed from writhing to shimmying against the glass and, presumably, all the parts of Barton. 

Darcy cackled before she caught herself and slapped a hand over her mouth. She shook her head, amused. “Leave it to Barton to get sexpollened and have the time of his degenerate life.” She laughed so hard, she couldn’t breathe.

“Aw, gross, Buck…” Steve whined next door. “Why you wipin’ it on the walls, ya mook?”

“He’s marking his territory because he’s prevented from laying claim to his chosen mate,” a new voice joined the discussion. “Dare I say—I believe he’s warning you off, Captain.”

“Dr. Nightshade,” Tony greeted his colleague somewhere on the far side of Darcy’s privacy curtains while Steve tried to reassure his bestie that he wasn’t panting after The Amazing Bucknaked Hawkeye. “Thank you for joining us. Have you had a chance to take a look at the early scans and samples I sent to your lab this morning?” Tony continued as if he weren’t riding herd on a three-ring, masturbating, furry circus.

“I have. Intriguing case, you have here. Very much in my wheelhouse.” Darcy heard the confidence in the doctor’s voice and felt marginally better for it. “My lab has identified two separate and distinct biological agents. Is it safe to assume we’re on the same page in those findings?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Tony agreed readily. 

“Let’s talk about the differences between plant and animal pheromones and pollen for a moment, then,” was the last part of that conversation Darcy understood. Truly, she was not a hard sciences girl. At one point, they came back around to ask Darcy about her love bites again and she was forced to admit her skin appeared to have been broken. 

Next door, she heard Steve whine in wordless apology.

“Not your fault,” she reminded him, remembering how hard they’d gone the night before and wishing there was a lot less ballistic glass between them now.

“Feels like my fault.” 

“No, Buff Daddy, we were _so much_ on the same page last night. Ten out of ten, would let you bite me again. Right now, in fact—”

“I’m sorry,” Tony interrupted, “Did you just call Steven Amber Waves of Grain Rogers ‘Buff Daddy’? In _my house_? _Right in front of my salad?_ ” the billionaire demanded. 

“You wanna know what he calls _me_?” Darcy taunted, pressing her face to the seam around the doorframe. 

“NO!!!” a chorus of voices rang out from the control center. 

“Funsuckers,” Darcy sneered, rubbing at her love bites and rolling the ache out of her shoulders. She was starting to get restless, like something crawled beneath her skin. 

The slapping sounds from Barton’s end of the row got louder. Then they were doubled when Barnes joined in again and all Darcy could do was lay on her cot and laugh. “What even is my life?” she breathed, resting a hand on the glass partition between her cell and Steve’s. 

Steve’s hand mirrored hers on the other side, warming her palm even through the thick glass. A tiny cleaning bot appeared and deposited a Starkphone on the edge of Darcy’s cot before zipping back into the bathroom and out of sight. 

Steve Starktimed her. He spoke to her quietly, aggressively, blatantly ignoring the others in favor of reassuring her with his soothing voice. He told her again how much he missed her while he was gone, how long the dark days and nights in space were without her, alone in his bunk. That was the worst part, he assured her, and Darcy suspected Steve’s hand was busy in his own pants, the way his shoulder moved in the image on-screen. He told her all he thought about those last two days on the Benatar was coming home to her; a hot shower and a long, sleepless night spent taking her apart in each of the million ways he’d been dreaming about for weeks. 

“Touch yourself,” he whispered and, sweet Frigga, did she _ever_. 

Eventually, she may have dozed, but she snapped awake when the ventilation system started to hiss and a purplish smoke poured into the room.

“Steve? Tony?” she sat up, panicked.

“It’s just a treatment, doll,” Steve reassured her as Tony repeated the same. “Breathe deep and let it do its job. It’ll dampen the symptoms a while so we can rest.”

“I was … I was napping.” She shook her head.  
  
“We have no idea why, so I’d rather not get ahead of ourselves,” Tony interjected and Bruce quietly concurred. “Tentatively, we believe we can send you home in a few hours to work off the side effects of the pollen you were dosed with through Steve with some good old Frozen Grandpa Mattress Mambo.”

“What about Clint and Bucky?” she asked just as Barton wailed. 

_Again._

“Tomorrow, maybe, for them,” Tony said and she heard the wry amusement in his voice when Bucky started growling in that staccato way that meant his hand was busy in his shredded pants again, too. “Barnes got hit hard with both chemical agents. Barton got a double whammy of the fuck or die pollen and a little of the Hair of the Dog, plus the Enthusiastic Vine Shuffle from the original plant when the vines somehow rooted in a dead houseplant in his apartment, so he’ll be humping legs for a while yet. Steve will be donating another pint of blood in a few hours so we can synthesize enough antibodies to make a couple dozen vials of the antidote to keep in the deep freeze in case this ever comes up again. Aaannd… You and Rogers have been cleared for cohabitation in the bad labs. Mazel tov!” Tony cheered as the door between her cell and Steve’s opened and Buff Daddy barreled in to scoop her up and burn off some sex pollen with a tick check of his own.

* * *

Sometime before dinner, the door between cells hissed again.

Clint sat up, naked and sticky, surrounded by vines stroking and petting him enthusiastically, with his hand still clamped around his raw dick. When he let go, his fingers cramped and muscle memory curled them back in, staying in position like he’d been holding a flashlight for hours. 

He groaned, feeling like a giant, horny bruise despite fumbling for the lube with his left hand to make some attempt at easing the itch still crawling under his skin. 

He froze when a growl filled the room and the vines rubbing him raw shivered. 

“Cleared for cohabitation,” Tony’s voice came softly through the intercom. “He swears he only wants to eat ass, not you, so we’re not worried about you turning into a werewolf through a bite at this point. He’ll finish metabolizing what’s still in his system in a few hours, but _you_ might actually need that werewolf dick to live, it turns out.”

“Werewolf dick?” Clint sat up in a hurry. The vines around his arms and legs tightened in response to his pheromone spike. Probably. (The one squeezing his dick never let up. Precum oozed unrelenting from the tip at this point. Clint resigned himself several hours ago to being dehydrated and sticky for another day or so yet.)

“Mine,” Bucky growled half a second before pouncing on Clint to flip him over and jam his long, hot werewolf tongue where Clint was pretty sure dogs were only supposed to sniff in greeting. 

“Okay, Barton?” Tony checked from behind the privacy curtain. 

“Fuck, Bucky, if you wanted a romantic weekend alone,” Clint panted into his cot when Bucky rearranged him so he bent over it on his knees, “all you had to do was say so.” 

As Bucky licked, he tugged on Clint’s dick in just the right way and the itchy-crawling eased. 

“Fuck, yeah. Get it, Buck.” Clint sighed and submitted with pleasure.

“Mmm. _Romantic_ ,” Bucky growled happily, digging his claws into the meat of Clint’s ass to mark him as his mate. 

Vines twined around them both, drawing Bucky closer in a slow, dirty grind against Clint’s raw ass cheeks. Bucky slammed a bottle of purple Gatorade down by Clint’s head. 

“Drinks, flowers, werewolf dick. What more could a guy ask f—” Clint’s voice cracked when the thick tip of Bucky’s new improved dick pressed against his entrance. “Oh, fuuuuuck,” he groaned. 

Was it just him, or was Buck’s dick hairier, too?

“ _Rooomaaantiiic…_ ” Bucky growled as he swirled his hips and slid inside to give Clint the dicking down of his dreams. 

Truly, a monster pounding, Clint giggled to himself, the giggles turning only a little hysterical as a vine wormed its way up between his legs and started twisting around Buck’s monster dick. 

“HohgodhohmygodhoHMYGOD!” Clint bellowed, having the time of his life. 

When Clint finally shouted in release and the vine making Bucky extra-ribbed for Hawkeye’s dirty pleasure stilled, Bucky nuzzled his throat, practically purring one last murmur of, “ _Romantic…_ ” in Clint’s ear before Bucky howled in release, too. 

“Yeah, baby,” Clint was forced to agree, patting his boyfriend’s shoulder and reaching back to give him a leg-thumping scritch behind his ear. “Good job. That was pretty damn romantic.”

“Tragic,” Nat scoffed from the control center on the other side of the curtained glass. 

**Author's Note:**

> I posted two other Halloween-related fics recently, one smutty and one funny. Be sure to check those out, too, if you're looking for more spooky fun and fall feels!
> 
> [Goodbye, Rumlow...](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26756056) and [A Story Told in Flesh](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26779156)
> 
> [Contact](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12932001/chapters/29552712), my multichaptered ABO pack fic, should be getting an update one Sunday very soon, so there's plenty of time to get caught up on that, too!


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